Hands and Hot Water
by PaddlingDingo
Summary: When she notices just how dirty MacCready's hands are, Sole Survivor Marlowe Murphy takes matters into her *own* hands.


"Home sweet… home plate." The lock clicked and Marlowe tucked the bobby pin back into the case she kept on her belt. Standing, she shouldered her bag and pushed on the screaky door. She breathed in the slightly stale air, laced with the smell of gun oil and old paper.

"Wouldn't it be easier to use the key?" MacCready asked, following her in and setting his rifle down inside the door.

She laughed, unloading her bag and blaster next to the rifle. She glanced sidelong at him as he pulled his hat off and hung it up on a hook. MacCready almost never took off the hat until he arrived somewhere he felt comfortable. Somewhere he would describe as a home. "And deny you watching me pick the lock?" She stretched, popping her spine. "You know you like it."

"That's the problem!" Grinning, he grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingers. "It's practically foreplay when you start breaking into things."

His lips were warm, soft, a contrast to the calloused hand that cradled hers, and the tension in her shoulders that she hadn't noticed before started to ease. "You're impossible, Mac." _But your smile makes me remember what being alive is like._ Her eyes followed the curve of his lips and traveled to his hand. Her gaze narrowed as she lingered on his fingers, covered in dirt and grease. "Whoa hold up there." Marlowe shook her hand free from his and pulled it back. "When was the last time you washed your hands?" She wrinkled her nose and leaned away from him, crossing her arms as she rested against the wall.

"Uh." MacCready looked down, stretching out his fingers and turning his hands over. Both sides of his hands were streaked with dirt, oil from cleaning his rifle, small cuts, and bits of dried blood. Dirt was packed under his fingernails. All normal signs of being on the road too long, but they'd come across their share of water during the day. "You probably don't want to know. But I can't argue, they look bad."

She winced. "You ate earlier. _With your hands._ "

"Hey, I know you're still pretty new to the world as it is, but if the radiation hasn't killed me, a little bit of dirt ain't going to do the job. Besides, it was mole rat on a stick. I held the stick." He chuckled. "And you weren't complaining about my dirty hands last night."

That. He had to remind her, didn't he? "It was dark. But thanks for reminding me where else your filthy hands have been." Rolling her eyes, she regarded him. "You're such a savage. Were you raised in a cave by children?"

"Oh now that's just getting personal." He laughed. "I'll have you know that us kids were far cleaner than I am now."

"For a man that hates dirty spaces…" She sighed and reached out to pull him towards the bathroom, a simple corner of the residence surrounded by a curtain. It contained a sink, toilet, shower, and a shelf with a number of towels in various states.

"Hey, what-?"

Putting her hands on his shoulders, she guided him backwards until they stood next to the sink. She reached out and turned on the hot water, watching as steam started to rise, then pushed MacCready's hands under the water.

He jumped back, but she held his hands at the wrists. "That's fuc- uh, freaking hot. Ow."

"You can take it. If the radiation and dirt haven't killed you, hot water and soap won't, either." Picking up a bar of soap that smelled vaguely of lilac to her (did lilac even exist anymore?), she rubbed it all over his hands.

Grimacing, he closed his eyes and let her hands run over his. "Are you trying to make me smell like a flower's butt?"

"If it gets the job done, sure." She held his hands in hers as she washed, dirty soapy water streaming off of his hands and down the drain.

Opening one eye, he looked down into the sink. "Okay. Maybe they're a little dirty."

"Maybe." Marlowe ran her fingers between his, trying to get all of the grime out. He closed his eyes again and stilled with a sigh, letting her work. She massaged soap into his palms and he let out a small moan when she reached the flesh around his thumb. "You're enjoying this now, aren't you?" His fingers curled towards his palm as she pushed her thumb into his palms, not only working out the dirt but also at the soreness they both inevitably got when spending most of the day fighting for their lives.

"Mmmm. It feels nice." He grinned, showing off just how many teeth he'd cracked or lost over the years. "Might have to go bury my hands in the garden later if this is what I get for it."

The soap made their hands slide against each other, her fingers interlacing with his for a moment. "Please don't. If you're going to get them dirty again, at least be doing something useful." She snagged a washcloth from the rack above the toilet, aiming for one that had fewer holes than the rest. Running the towel under the water, she scrubbed at the remaining trouble spots on his hands until she was satisfied, then dropped the towel on top of the toilet. She dried off her hands and turned off the water, pulling down a towel to wrap his hands in and dry them. "Hold still." She fished the smallest of her knives out of her boot and inspected it to make sure it's clean.

MacCready finally cracked an eyelid to look at her. "You really are determined, aren't you?"

"You could say that." Her hands held his firmly as she worked the very tip of the knife under his fingernails, dislodging the grime that remained under his nails. "I fear your feet are just as bad," she admonished, careful to keep her hands steady. The last thing she wanted to do was add his own blood to the mix.

"At least they're in boots most of the time. The inside of my boots, though…"

"You change your socks more often than I do, I'll give you that."

When she finished, she set the knife by the sink and held his hands up in front of her face, turning them over and looking at them with a critical eye. His skin looked red where she'd scrubbed hardest, but the dirt was gone except for a couple of spots under his nails. "It'll do." She looked up to his face and paused, tilting her head to the side when she noticed he was staring at her. "You okay?"

"I'm more than okay." He placed his hands on each side of her face and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. His hands radiated heat. "But I have some bad news for you: the rest of me isn't much cleaner than my hands were."

"Then I have some good news for _you_." She turned her head to the side and caught one of his hands in both of hers, taking two of his fingers between her lips.

He hissed, swaying on his feet and bumping into the sink. "And that is…?"

Running her lips slowly over his fingers, she pulled away, kissed his fingertips, and grinned at him. "I can afford enough hot water to wash the rest of you, too."

His jaw stiffened and the smile left his face. "No, not gonna happen. I'll use a rag or take a cold shower, it'll do a good enough job."

 _I forget sometimes, how much he's never had._ MacCready hated cold water, and it broke her heart a little that he'd consider that rather than let her spend a few caps. "Hey. When are you going to get it through your head that you're worth it? That the caps don't matter?" She stepped forward and ran a finger along his cheek. "You deserve something good."

He shook his head. "Caps always matter, Marlowe. I can't let you spend that on my behalf."

"Then I won't." She stepped out of the bathroom and started removing her coat. "But I'm taking a hot shower, I don't give a shit about the caps, and it's cheaper for us to take one hot shower than for you to take one cold one and me take one hot separately. You want to be a cap pincher, fine, but you can pay for your own cold shower, or wash your own damned towels. Or you can join me in the shower to continue what my lockpicking probably started."

Tucking her coat onto a nail on the wall, she turned around to find him attempting to walk out of the bathroom while attempting to remove his boots at the same time. He tripped on the edge of the tile and went careening into the wall. "You could have just said, 'take a hot naked shower with me', would have been easier," he muttered.

"And miss this? It's not my fault that you're dense." She dropped into a chair and pulled off her boots, then walked back to help him out of his coat. She laid it over the back of the chair before turning back to him and reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. "Robert Joseph MacCready."

"Uh. Marlowe… 'I don't know your middle name' Murphy?"

She blushed. She hadn't thought to tell anyone. "Elizabeth."

"Marlowe Elizabeth Murphy." He smiled at her. "That's beautiful. You're beautiful." He laughed. "Why are we saying each other's names?"

He could be so sweet at times, despite everything he'd been through. "I love you."

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her to him, tucking his head down against her shoulder. She understood that he couldn't always say it; not because he didn't feel it, but she could read it in his face. That he'd never thought he'd hear those words spoken like that again. He didn't need his voice to convey it, though, not with her. His fingers grasped at her and he took a deep breath against her skin.

It said everything.

"You're almost as dirty as me," he mumbled against her neck.

She laughed. "But you love me."

His arms tightened around her. "More than I know how to tell you. I'm never letting you go. And when we get all this straightened out, get Duncan moved and get Shaun back, we can..." He looked at her.

Marlowe felt her heart sinking at the thought of Shaun. "It won't be that simple."

"Why not?"

"Shaun... he's..." Marlowe closed her eyes and pulled back from him. "I have to go back to the vault to look I to something. I've been looking for a child, but I saw the dust. It's been a lot of years since anyone opened that vault. Since anyone opened... Nate's..." Her chest tightened and she fought to take a breath.

His eyes widened. "You don't think he's actually a child."

"I don't know," she admitted, looking down. Her eyes focused on his belt buckle. "Kellogg's memories showed a child, but there's something off about it all. It isn't adding up." Her fists clenched at her sides. "That's why I have to go back, to see it with what I know now."

"Then we'll go. We'll find out." He took her hands in his. "You just tell me when you're ready, and I'm with you." His hands felt good wrapped around hers. "Do you want to wait on the shower? We can talk for a bit, if you need to…"

"I'm good." She looked back up to look at his face, turning her hands to squeeze his. "I'll feel better after I'm clean."

Nodding, he let go of her hands and started to unbutton his shirt. "Then let's find out if a hot shower is as you're telling me."

"What?" She started laughing despite herself as she pushed his hands aside to finish undoing the buttons. "Have you never had a hot shower?"

"Not an actual hot shower. Slightly warm ones, maybe." He chuckled. "When your only option is cold water, it doesn't make you good friends with bathing."

She reached the last button and untucked his shirt from his belt. "Savage."

"Your savage, who will walk this earth with you as long as this world will let me."

"The cleaner you are, the more you'll get to hang around," she teased.

"Then we'd better get started, beautiful. If you don't make us broke first." He laughed. "But don't wash off too much of it, the dirt is part of my charm."

"Wouldn't dream of it. We both know dirt is part of the job." Her hands brushed his skin as she slid his shirt down his arms, and she paused for a moment, staring at the freckles on his shoulders. He wasn't what she'd expected. He wasn't what she could have ever planned.

Reaching up, his hand brushed her hair from her face, and she had never been so grateful that life could throw one hell of a curveball.


End file.
